No one ever asked Ginny
by fiesa
Summary: No one ever asked Ginny, not even about the most important decisions in her life. Sometimes she doesn t know whether to be annoyed or indifferent. OneShot.


**No one ever asked Ginny**

_Summary: No one ever asked Ginny, not even about the most important decisions in her life. Sometimes she doesn´t know whether to be annoyed or indifferent. OneShot. _

_Warnings: -_

_Set: story-unrelated, future-fic_

_Disclaimer: Standards apply. Suit yourself. _

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* * *

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No one ever asked Ginny.

Most of the important decisions had been made without her; most of her life seemed to carry on fairly normal without her interference. Which was odd, since it was _her_ life.

Sometimes she wasn't sure whether she was supposed to feel either annoyed or indifferent. Mostly, she decided to get angry. _Really_ angry, which meant even Fred and George ran from her. Still, nobody seemed to think of her when it came to those life-changing, earth-shattering moments in which such decisions were made.

It was her status.

Undoubtedly.

She was the only daughter, the youngest child, the little chick, the sweet (if not annoying) sister. Everyone regarded her as such: her father, her mother, her elder brothers. Be it to protect her, be it because they had been there so much earlier and always been by themselves, they seemed to forget to consult her or ask for her opinion.

* * *

"Today, Harry's with me!"

Ron's voice echoed through the rough and wild garden. It was summer, glorious, warm, golden summer, and the Burrow's front yard was as wild-grown as ever. Ginny couldn't imagine it in another state. She loved the wild rose bushes, the hedge full of gnomes, the old, gnarly trees and the patch of vegetables her mother kept so carefully groomed. Right now, she was with three of her brothers, Fred, George and Ron, and Harry Potter, Ron's best friend, and just now Ron was claiming the other one for himself.

"You had him yesterday; today I and he are a team!"

"Oh, is little Ronnie still angry that he lost yesterday?" Fred crooned, and George quipped in: "Yes, is he sulking because we swiped him three hundred and twenty to sixty?"

The twins grinned at each other and both clapped Harry on the back so hard the boy involuntarily made three steps forward. In his face Ginny still could detect the last traces of his surprise, excitement and happiness: Surprise at the fact that they really had invited him to the Burrow, excitement at their huge family and about the – for Ginny perfectly normal – life of wizards and witches – and happiness because he was able to be there, able to enjoy these holidays. She still felt rather shy looking at him but she watched him whenever she could.

"Well, you had Harry, that's why you won! So today he's going to be on my team!"

"What's wrong with having Ginny on your team?" George asked.

"Yeah, she's a great seeker!"

Surprisingly, the voice wasn't Fred's but Harry's. Immediately, Ginny blushed beet-red and averted her eyes.

"I've been on a team with Ginny for the last two days", Ron argued and threw her a not the least apologetic look. "I want to train with Harry, too! Why don't we _ask_ him on which team he wants to be for once?"

Immediately, all eyes turned to the dark-haired boy, who seemed torn between amusement and embarrassment.

"I don't mind being on either team", he said. Something inside Ginny sparked and lit as he continued: "Why don't Ginny and I play together for once?"

"What!" Cried Ron indignantly and Fred and George both argued: "No way both our best seekers can be on one team!"

Ginny's hopes fell as Harry merely shrugged and seemed to accommodate himself with that argument.

"So how are we going to play today?"

"I'm with Harry", Ron immediately said and grabbed him by his jacket sleeve. "Come on, we have to discuss our tactics…"

"So you're stuck with us, sister dearest", Fred crooned and George added smugly "We'll beat them anyway."

Nobody had asked her on what team she would have liked to be.

* * *

"We can't be together."

Why was it she had known what Harry had wanted to say even before he opened his mouth? Quietly, tears still lurking dangerously close behind her eyes, she stared back at him. He didn't answer her gaze, fiddled with the hem of his cloak. Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, had just been buried. Voldemort was on the move again, more dangerous than ever. Life had changed, from one moment to another, too quick for her to already be able to adjust to it. In fact, she couldn't understand how life could be continuing as it always had. Why didn't the world stop turning? Why did the sun go up although so many terrible things had happened, so many people had died? She would need some more days, she knew, although not as long as others would need. But now, she had to deal with this.

"I know."

It was the truth. She _knew._ Harry Potter, the boy who lived, the boy she loved from the moment she had set her eyes on him. He was breaking up with her and the only thing she could say was _I know._ She knew _him, _and she knew herself. She knew the circumstances, the background (although _something_ was missing), she knew what he had been through (even though he hadn't told her everything, she doubted he had even told Hermione and Ron _everything_) and she knew what he would be doing next. And she knew she was a hindrance.

Which didn't mean she didn't mind _not_ being asked in this decision.

Harry, to his honor, attempted an explanation.

"I have to go after Voldemort, you know that. And if it was known that we were together, he…"

Pain blazed behind his glasses and Ginny wanted to kiss him, kiss away the pain and sadness and the overbearing weight of his responsibility. She wanted him to stay with her, not to break up, to be able to live a normal life. But it was impossible, and she _knew. _So she forced back the tears bubbling up inside of her and smiled at him. She had to be strong, because he desperately tried to be strong and failed.

"I know," she repeated.

He hadn't asked her if she agreed with it.

* * *

"Mum! Dad!"

Fred and George came trampling into the house, scaring the shit out of Crookshank and accidentally shattering a vase that had been carelessly placed on the little table at the entrance.

"They're back! They're at Hogwarts and they'll be fighting! Let's go!"

Their yells – partly wild delight, partly great anticipation – drew out every single member momentarily present at the Burrow: Charlie stormed from the living-room, Bill and Fleur on his heels. Mrs. Weasley rushed down the stairs. Mr. Weasley wasn't to be seen.

"DAD!"

Ginny left the pot of stew she had been guarding for the past hour to itself and rushed into the corridor as well, her wand already in her hand. She paused to grab a sweater. The moment she was ready, Mr. Weasley stormed into the kitchen through the back door, straw in his hair. He paused to check on the pot on the stove: the stew was bubbling merrily.

"ARTHUR!"

He joined them in the corridor, where Fred and George were already reporting that Harry, Ron and Hermione had arrived in Hogwarts and that the school was preparing for battle.

"We're going!" They chorused. "We can get into the Hog's Head by apparition, and there must be an entrance to Hogwarts somewhere. Neville let us know.

"How the heck did Neville Longbottom contact you?"

Mrs. Weasley demanded while discarding her apron and pulling out her wand. Fleur was busy pulling up her hair in a pony-tail, Charlie and Bill looked like they already were ready to leave, Mr. Weasley groped for a bottle of Dittany in the cabinet. Ginny started to walk towards the door to get out of the boundaries that prevented anyone from apparating in their garden. Her family followed.

"Neville was one of the founding members of Dumbledore's Army. He made sure he could contact us all – hurry, Mum, we have to get there!"

"Yes, yes," Mrs. Weasley mumbled and threw a critical look over her family. "Alright, we'll fight, of course – Ginny, you stay."

"What?"

Incredulous, Ginny stared at her mother.

"Mum – Ron will be there, and Harry, and Hermione – we have to help…"

"_We'll_ help, but _you'll_ stay here, young lady."

"But _Mum_!"

Now outraged, Ginny drew her wand.

"I'm old enough, I can fight…"

"Don't you dare use that wand on me, Ginevra!"

"But I…"

"Wait," her father interfered in one of his better moments. "Let's discuss this later. First, we get into the Hog's Head. Then we see how to get into Hogwarts. Ginny can come until then."

"But once she is in Hogsmeade, it'll be dangerous…"

"Ready, Molly? Let's go, boys, Ginny – hold on…"

Ginny clung to her father as he disapparated, feeling no trace of victory. The squirmish was won, but the battle raged on.

Again, nobody had asked her. They had just assumed she wouldn't fight.

* * *

"Ginevra is in her last year too, isn't she?"

Mme Delacour's voice was soft and nevertheless rich with expression. Fleur's mother wasn't half as bad as Ginny had expected, and since Bill's and Fleur's marriage and the end of the war she had come over to visit Ginny's mother more and more often. The two women, as different as they might seem, got along splendidly.

"Gabrielle wants to go into arts and design as soon as she finished in Beauxbatons. She's a bright kid, but sensitive, too, I wonder whether she'll be able to do that, the competition is huge… What are Ginny's plans for the future?"

Ginny's mother laughed and Ginny could imagine her expression. She remained where she was, in the kitchen, at the table, quietly turning the pages of the book she had been reading although nothing of the text yet had formed into an idea of what the plot was about. She knew one shouldn't listen to other people's conversations, but since it was about her and she had no problems with hearing critique, she didn't get up to close the door.

"Our Ginny is such a bright girl! Though she spends far too much time with Quidditch. Her grades are really good, I'm sure she'd be number one if she cared. I guess a job towards healing would be best suited for her, or something like teaching… She's great with children, you should have seen her handle Teddy Lupin…"

Ginny sighted and withstood the urge to run into the living room and shout that her future already had been decided on. Everyone else still thought she hadn't yet made up her mind, that the topic still was open for debate. Everyone thought she was still deciding on what she would do after leaving Hogwarts. _Wrong. _She had made up her mind long ago, and Ginny wouldn't let anything stand between her and her dream.

_Quidditch._

"At the moment, the only thing she has in mind is that blasted – pardon me – Quidditch game. I hope she'll grow out of it, soon… One can't make a decent living with Quidditch! It's unstable and has too many variables… The seasonal changes… And if she wants to have children once… I'm sure she'll decide on something else soon. She's not stupid, bless my sweet daughter, and she knows there won't be a point in pursuing useless dreams."

Ginny snorted quietly.

_Oh, Mum. Dream on._

Funny how nobody had asked _her_ what she wanted to do for the rest of her life.

* * *

The rush, the chaos and the level of stress that was cursing through the house was almost palpable. Carefully eyeing around the corner, Ginny made sure nobody was near and slipped into the kitchen, where she presently bumped into her newly announced fiancé.

"Hi."

Harry smiled at her, half shyly, half humorous, and she felt her stern face give way to an equally bright smile.

"I need some water."

He took a glass from the cupboard – George or Percy or even Ron would have summoned it with their wands, and that was why she loved Harry – and filled it with fresh water. Handing it to her, he dropped down on a chair next to her and chuckled.

"I'm sure you don't only need some water but some rest, too."

"Please", she sighed and drained the glass. "It's about time I move out."

"Who said anything about moving out?"

She threw him a threatening look.

"I am going to come and live with you, no matter what you say. You asked me to marry you, after all."

"And here I was, thinking I'd receive some thanks."

Ginny leaned back; the grin seemingly plastered to her face, and closed her eyes.

"Maybe later."

His voice dropped to a level of intimacy she seldom heard and often craved for.

"I do hope you'll remember those words."

"Depends…"

"On what?"

"Depends on whether you can spare me the rest of the evening in this huge house full of madmen and madwomen."

"I'm curious. In what way will this evening become even worse than it already was?"

"Mum sent owls to Ron and Hermione, George and Angelina, Bill and Fleur, Charlie, Percy and probably every aunt, uncle and cousin whatsoever who is slightly related to us."

"Oh."

Harry thought of that for a minute while his hand slowly massaged her shoulders.

"I guess that means we're going to live through the hassle of this morning at least three more times."

"You could just as well wait until everyone is present and then ask for my hand again. Which, on a side note, was a quite impolite thing to do."

"May I ask why?"

"Because, firstly, you hadn't even asked _me_ before. And secondly, who are you to ask _my parents_ for _my hand_?"

He chuckled.

"I'm old-fashioned."

Before Ginny had a chance to retort, the kitchen door slammed open and Hermione and Angelina stormed into the room.

"Harry! Ginny! Congratulations!"

There was great shuffling and hugging, kissing and squealing and then, Ron, George, Percy and his girlfriend managed to squeeze into the kitchen to congratulate them, too. In the general hassle, Ginny managed to grab Harry's hand and sneak away. In the corridor, they overheard the arrival of three of Mrs. Weasley's best friends.

"Molly! I'm so _happy_ for you! We came here _at once_! Well, _little_ Ginny is _getting married_! We'll have to order _the_ tent again, you know, the one we had at Bill's marriage! And there _has_ to be music, I'm sure my nephew still knows that _great_ singer, and the food… It has to be a _great_ party, a _huge_ party, hasn't it! I'm _sure_ she'd love to use my great-great-aunt's veil, I'd _love_ to borrow it to her! Oh, Molly, how _fast_ has your little girl grown up! And the flowers… They _have_ to be white, of course, but not lilies, they are _so_ sad, don't you think, and…"

"Tell you what", Ginny whispered. "I'm going to get married in my jeans and only have a tiny bouquet of lilies. It's going to rain and we won't have any tent and we're going to get totally wet. The singer won't be able to say a word because I'm leaving Lee in charge of the music and George in charge of the decorations. And Mum will have a heart-attack and Aunt Viole can put her veil wherever she likes and it'll be perfect."

Harry grinned.

"If that's what you want."

"They _should _have asked me first."

* * *

It is a chorus that repeats itself throughout her life. Decisions, plans and preparations are made without taking her opinion into account. Whether she is ten, fifteen, almost seventeen, seventeen and a half, twenty or twenty-three, she still remains the little sister nobody really takes notice of because everyone is too busy protecting her. When she was younger, it drove her mad. Today it gives her a mixed feeling of melancholy and amusement. How can an entire family be so oblivious towards the fact that she is fully grown by now? That she has her own life, her own family? That her decisions have to be taken into account as well?

But because Ginny loves her family, and because she knows they love her even more, she extracts her revenge quietly and then lets them be.

She drives her parents to despair, listens to their advice and then does what she wants. She knows what is good for her. She had been brought up well.

She jinxes Fred and George, who still haven't invented anything that even remotely mirror her Bat-Bogey Hexes and who have long realized she is the most dangerous of their lot.

She blackmails Ron when he gets on her nerves and talks down to her – _You want Mum to stay off your back when you meet Hermione? That'll cost you – _though she also does it because it's her job as the youngest sister.

Since Percy, Bill and Charlie are far less strict, although just as protective, she contents herself and merely reminds them she has an opinion, too.

And in regard to Harry Potter – her husband has long realized that it is much easier to live with her when simply letting her have what she wants or, at least, asking her first. Though he, as the only person alive, doesn't need words to do so.

His eyes speak volumes.


End file.
